


Two Thousand Miles

by groolover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groolover/pseuds/groolover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has become a bit of a recluse, apart from his unusual profession. Draco has been out of the country for years, but now he's back. They're both hiding from the world – so how will they find each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Thousand Miles

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This was the first H/D story I ever wrote. It was a present for enchanted_jae, originally posted at Christmas 2010, and it ended up five times longer than expected!

**Two Thousand Miles**

 

Harry was walking extremely slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

He'd done very well so far that winter; the bitterly cold weather had arrived three weeks earlier, and although it hadn't actually snowed _every_ day since, there hadn't been a single moment in which the temperature had risen above freezing point, and so the snow and ice was still on the ground. Harry reckoned this was the longest he'd ever gone through a winter without slipping on the ice, and memories of bruises acquired in previous years ensured that he was keen to extend his record still further. 

As he reached the alley from which he usually Apparated, he wondered (not for the first time) why Muggles made such an effort to keep their roads free of ice, yet paid no such attention to their pavements. But then, he told himself (again, not for the first time), if the wizarding world was as obsessed with cars, maybe they would do the same. As it was, though, although he avoided the wizarding world as much as possible these days, he was at least grateful that regular use of the Tabidus charm meant that its pavements were safe to walk on.

Diagon Alley was heaving with people, no doubt all trying to buy last-minute Christmas presents. Luckily Harry had become very proficient at effective Disillusionment Charms, though, and within ten minutes of him stepping out from his customary secluded arrival point near the Knockturn Alley junction, he had reached the other end of Diagon Alley without anyone being aware of his presence. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and forced himself to relax. 

It was a further ten-minute walk to the small wizarding suburb in which many of the Aurors lived, and Harry strode along, enjoying the combination of ice-free pavements and a crisp winter evening. It was only four o'clock, yet the sun had already vanished, leaving a tawny glow just above the horizon and an increasingly darkening purple sky towards the zenith. Harry could just distinguish the Pleiades very low in the east, but only because he knew they were there (they were his favourite thing in the night sky, and he always made a point of looking for them). He looked upwards to see whether or not the Milky Way was visible yet, but the sky wasn't dark enough, although the stars of the Summer Triangle were twinkling faintly overhead. Jupiter, however, glowed brilliantly from his vantage point below the Square of Pegasus, brighter than everything else in the sky.

Suddenly Harry stopped and sniffed the air. He groaned. _Not again,_ he thought. He raised the fingers of both hands to his face and sniffed them. The scent of roses filled his nostrils, to his relief. _So I DID wash my hands._ (He had taken a liking to that particular brand of handwash and had bought some for the bathroom at work.) 

He started to walk again, but after a couple of steps he stopped for a second time, and grabbed a bit of his hair and attempted to sniff it. This would have been easier if it had still been as long as he'd let it get in the first couple of years after the war, but when he'd started his current job and discovered that he'd have to wear a hairnet if he kept it that length, he'd got it cut the next day. However, it was apparently still long enough to pick up the odour of the oil, because there was no doubt that his hair was the source of the smell that had caused him to interrupt his walk. _Great. Oh well, it could be worse - at least it doesn't FEEL greasy._

Harry grinned wryly to himself at the thought of what the wizarding world would think if they knew what job their Chosen One had ended up doing. True, it wasn't his full-time occupation – he only did it occasionally, when they needed him – but he'd found that he enjoyed it far more than he'd expected to, and saw no reason to stop just yet, however much it made him stink. _I'll just have to make sure I shower more frequently, that's all. Or invent a spell to remove unwanted aromas. Or both._

As he debated whether he was bothered enough about the smell to ask to use Ron and Hermione's shower when he reached their house or whether he could bear to wait until he got home, he felt a feather-light touch on his head. For a moment he thought it had started to snow again, but when he looked up he saw a black cat sitting on the fence next to which he had been lost in thought. It stared at him with yellowy-green eyes, then bent its head to sniff his hair again.

_That's right, rub it in! I stink!_ Harry sighed, but couldn't resist reaching up and stroking the cat. It definitely approved of this, emitting a steady, surprisingly loud purr, and Harry was sufficiently encouraged to try stroking the front of its neck. It promptly lifted its chin and stretched languorously, but after a minute of this, it turned and walked a few steps along the fence before looking back at Harry. 

"Was it something I said?" he asked it, oddly affronted. It stared back at him – if he'd had to come up with a word to describe that stare, he might have said 'baleful' – and then jumped off the fence and walked along the pavement. Harry was about to give it one last stroke and resume his journey when he realised that the cat had stopped again and was looking over its shoulder at him. 

If it hadn't been a totally insane idea, he would've sworn that the cat was trying to get him to follow it. And as soon as _that_ thought occurred to him, he knew he was going to go along with it. There was, of course, a brief argument in his head, between Sensible Ex-Auror Harry (who knew that it was entirely possible that this was not an ordinary cat and harm might come to him if he let it direct him) and Impulsive Ex-Hero Harry (who was too intrigued by the idea to care), but one of the reasons that Harry was an Ex-Auror rather than an Auror was that Impulsive Ex-Hero Harry won far more internal arguments.

Once the cat realised that Harry was indeed going to do its bidding, it began to pad along at a considerable speed, and Harry didn't have to reduce his normal walking speed at all. It led him almost all the way to the road on which Ron and Hermione lived, but just when Harry was marvelling at the idea that the cat might somehow know where he was going, it stopped in front of a small row of terraced houses on the main road, and looked at him expectantly.

Harry looked around, and then did a double-take. He'd passed this row of houses many times and knew that there were five of them. But now it seemed there were six – where had that tiny house on the end come from? He tried to think what had been in that position before – a garden? A patch of grass? Wasteland? But his mind couldn't produce a single image, and this realisation gave him the explanation. _A Notice-Me-Not Charm. Very clever. But who lives here? And why don't they want to be seen?_

Unlike whoever lived in the house, the cat seemed to want attention; it came over and licked Harry's hand, and then stalked round the side of the house. Harry followed it across the snow-covered grass, aware both that his heart was beating unusually quickly and that he wasn't sure why. As he turned the corner, he was surprised to see that the back door of the house was slightly ajar. The cat stopped at the door and looked back at Harry one last time, then slipped inside. _Why was I expecting it to wink at me? That WOULD have been ridiculous._

The next moment, though, all thoughts of winking cats – or even non-winking cats, or in fact anything at all – had left his head entirely, because the person who appeared in the doorway at that point was someone that Harry hadn't seen in five years, but had thought about many times in that period.

"Draco." 

Draco had been about to close the door, but his head jerked up at this, and he looked around in obvious panic. His eyes passed right over Harry with no sign of recognition, much to Harry's surprise, and once his scan of the area was complete, he closed the door and retreated out of sight. 

Harry stood motionless in the garden, too shocked to move. After a minute or two, he looked down at himself, and then laughed quietly. He wasn't sure whether he was laughing because he'd actually looked to check he wasn't invisible, or because he _had_ forgotten that he was still wearing his extra-high-strength Disillusionment Charm. His laughter died away a moment later, though, when it occurred to him to wonder why he could now see this house, when he'd never been able to before. With this thought, he tentatively walked across to the French windows and peered into the house. 

Draco Malfoy was sitting in an armchair with a tray in his lap. The table next to him was covered with books and piles of paper, and Draco had a book in one hand and was writing on a piece of paper with the other. Bizarrely, though, he was doing this despite the fact that the black cat was sprawled across his chest, apparently asleep. Its head was nestled into Draco's shoulder, its tail was tickling his neck, and its front paws were stretched out across his left arm. Draco was actually supporting the cat's body with the same arm with which he was holding the book, and the hand that was doing the writing was doing so with some difficulty, as it had to bend slightly to fit round the cat. _That looks incredibly uncomfortable,_ Harry thought, _so why does he look so relaxed?_

All of a sudden, Harry realised that he couldn't walk away without attempting to actually communicate with Draco, and – before he could talk himself out of it – he dropped the Disillusionment Charm and knocked on the window.

He felt immediately guilty when Draco jumped up out of the chair, dropping his book, paper and pen and causing the cat to yowl as it leapt onto the table. Draco stared at Harry in horror, and then ran out of the room. 

"No! Wait! Draco! Please!" shouted Harry desperately. But it was no use – Draco didn't reappear.

 

*******

 

Harry had intended to tell Ron and Hermione about what he'd seen – they would certainly understand what a big deal it was, after all – but by the time he finally reached their house he realised that he wanted to process it internally for a while longer before he shared it with them. They knew him too well not to notice that something had happened, of course, but they didn't push him for an immediate explanation, letting him off with a promise that he would tell them when he was ready. He decided that the least he could do in return was not to inflict his stench on them while they were eating, so he jumped into the shower after all, while they were finishing things in the kitchen. 

(Ron and Hermione had offered, the previous year, to cook Harry a pre-Christmas Christmas dinner, since they would be having their actual Christmas dinner at The Burrow as usual, but Harry could no longer go there. It had been a very happy occasion in a year which had been very difficult for Harry, and the three of them had vowed to make it an annual tradition. That first time they'd done it on Christmas Eve, but Ron had requested that it be earlier in future so that he could make the most of the available food without being sick. Hermione had been particularly amused at the thought that even Ron couldn't cope with two full Christmas dinners on consecutive days.)

After the meal, and the drinks after the meal, and the mince pies after the drinks after the meal, and the coffee after the mince pies after the drinks after the meal, Harry was ready for some fresh air. As he put his coat on, he wondered whether Ron would... _Ah, here it comes,_ he thought.

"Listen, mate, I do get it – why you won't Apparate straight to or from here, I mean – but I still think you're mad. No-one will notice!"

Harry tried not to sigh. He did the next best thing, though, and looked imploringly at Hermione. _She_ sighed. "Ron, you know that they _will_ notice. All Apparitions anywhere near Auror residences are monitored for security purposes. And they may not pay much attention to most of them, but if you don't think they'd recognise Harry's magical signature, you're the one who's mad. He's managed to hide himself from the wizarding world for almost two years – why would he give himself away now?"

Ron muttered something that sounded like "by the time they notice he'll be gone", but subsided when Hermione glared at him. "Fine," he said, yawning. "Just thought I'd suggest it. Save you that long walk in the cold."

"Well, I appreciate the thought, really," said Harry, "but I don't actually mind walking. And it's not _that_ cold." 

"Hopefully by the time you get home you'll have worked out whatever's got your mind tied up in knots," said Hermione.

Harry smiled at her, grateful for her understanding. "I hope so," he said.

 

*******

 

Five minutes later, though, Harry found himself back in the garden behind Draco Malfoy's house, freshly Disillusioned and peering through the French windows. He hadn't worked out anything at all, other than that he wanted to see Draco again and find out what was going on. He was relieved to see that Draco was back in his armchair, surrounded by candles; this time he was just reading, but with the cat again sprawled across his chest. 

As Harry stood there, he felt a sudden breeze, and the next moment an owl swooped past his head, moving very quickly and carrying a large box. It flew directly into the house, through a flap near the top of the wall which Harry hadn't previously noticed, and landed in the kitchen. Draco immediately got up from his chair and went to investigate. He looked pleased when he saw the box, and gave the owl a treat from a jar on top of the fridge. As the owl flew out, Draco tore the box open and started putting groceries away.

Harry, who had moved across to the kitchen window to observe the proceedings, felt an unexpected ache in his chest. It was possible, of course, that this was just an occasional delivery and Draco usually went out of the house to buy food, but somehow Harry knew this was not the case. How long had Draco been here, not just living alone but apparently avoiding all human contact? And why?

 

*******

 

"Well, Harry, I don't know how long he's been there, but isn't it obvious why?"

Harry looked at Hermione in bemusement. She seemed far more alert than him, which was odd given that she was in her dressing-gown and kept trying not to yawn – it was, after all, two o'clock in the morning and she and Ron had been fast asleep when Harry had hammered on their door. 

Ron shuffled back into the room carrying three mugs of coffee, and Harry was momentarily distracted – and, as ever, immensely cheered – by the sight of Ron's furry Hippogriff slippers. (The memory of the argument he'd witnessed in the shop always made him smile almost as much as the slippers themselves. "You can't buy those, Ronald, they're just completely ridiculous! Hippogriffs don't _have_ fur!" "Well, I don't care! I want some nice, warm slippers, and these are _so furry_!")

"She's right, and I know I always say that, because she always is, but even I can see the answer this time," said Ron. "It IS obvious why Malfoy's hiding. It's sort of the same reason _you're_ hiding. You want to avoid everyone because they won't leave you alone. I should think he does too – it's just that in his case it's negative attention people give him, whereas with you it was always positive."

"But... What? When are you talking about?" asked Harry. "He got a lot of abuse at his trial, I suppose, but we never saw him apart from that! He was never out in public. The first time we knew he'd left the country was when I went to give him his wand back."

"He wasn't out in public very much, even the week after the trial when he'd been cleared, that's true... but Ron and I did see him a few times," said Hermione. "I feel a bit bad now that we didn't step in when we saw how he was being treated, but we were still in the Malfoy-is-evil frame of mind then. And it wasn't as if we saw him being _physically_ hurt – it was just verbal abuse. It didn't seem so bad at the time, but if he was getting that every time he left the house, I'm not surprised he went into hiding. I wonder how long he's been back in the country?"

"It seems a bit strange that you two saw him but I never did," said Harry, while trying to work out why that thought was so upsetting.

"Not really," said Ron. "Everywhere _you_ went, there was a huge crowd. Malfoy would have avoided huge crowds, wouldn't he? The abuse would have been much worse."

"I suppose so," said Harry. "I just wish I could get him to talk to me now. I don't want to freak him out again, but I'm worried that he might vanish, and this time he'll never come back. Maybe I'll wait a day or two before I try again. See if I come up with an idea in the meantime."

"I can't help wondering how much of this is you wanting to solve the puzzle, and how much of it is just you wanting to see Malfoy," said Hermione.

"Ha! In that case I win, Hermione," said Ron. "The answer to _that_ is _really_ obvious."

Hermione looked at him expectantly. 

"He wants to see Malfoy," said Ron. 

"What makes you so sure?" asked Harry, inexplicably afraid of the answer.

"What, you mean apart from the fact that you've been talking about him for the last five years? Wait... the last _twelve_ years?"

"Apart from that, yes."

"Until tonight, you've always called him Malfoy, same as us. But tonight, since you saw him, you've been calling him Draco, and you haven't even noticed."

 

*******

 

Draco took a long time to get to sleep that night. His mind kept coming up with question after question: How had Harry found him? Why could Harry see the house? Why had Draco hid from him? What would he do if Harry came back? 

He laughed to himself a bit at that last one. _If_ Harry came back? The one thing he was sure of was that Harry _would_ come back, and would keep coming back until Draco talked to him, so he needed to come up with a plan of action. Just as soon as he'd had some sleep. 

He turned over onto his side, and Spike, predictably, immediately climbed on top of him and stared at him. The room was dark, but Spike's yellowy-green eyes were reassuringly visible. As usual, Draco couldn't resist stroking him, and soon the amazingly loud purr started up; this was always a prelude to Spike making himself comfortable, and sure enough, within minutes Spike had apparently fallen asleep on Draco's shoulder, and Draco didn't want to move lest he wake him. _Oh well, I can usually sleep in this position._

It felt like only a few minutes later when he was startled awake by the sound of someone knocking on the front door, but it was definitely daylight, so it must have been considerably longer. He forced himself to stop shaking and looked at the clock. Quarter past eleven; he had slept for longer than expected, once he'd finally got to sleep. But now he was awake, he realised that the knocking on the door was not Harry, although he wasn't sure how he knew that. It was more than just the fact that Harry had knocked on the French windows and this was the front door; the quality of the knocking was different too. But if it wasn't Harry, who on earth could it be? The Notice-Me-Not Charm should have prevented everyone from seeing the house. _Note to self: you still haven't worked out how HARRY could see the house._

The knocking stopped, and a slightly different knocking took over. It still didn't seem like Harry, but since Draco had (he suddenly realised) accepted the fact that Harry would come back sooner rather than later, and Draco would probably let him in when he did, it didn't seem like such a big deal to consider opening the door to someone else. In fact – _Aha! If I ignore for the moment the fact that I don't know how HARRY could see the house in the first place... once he COULD see it, he could tell someone else it was there. So whoever's knocking on the door is probably someone Harry knows._

Marvelling inwardly at the idea that this conclusion wasn't scaring him, Draco put his dressing-gown on and ventured downstairs. He peered through the peephole. Granger and Weasley. Of course it was Granger and Weasley. Steeling himself, he opened the door. 

"Granger, Weasley," he said. "Good morning."

They both stared at him in amazement, but Weasley pulled himself together more quickly than Granger (thus causing Draco to lose a bet he'd just made in his head). "Malfoy," he said. "Is it OK if we come in, please? We'd like to talk to you about Harry."

"We're not here to..." began Granger, but Weasley touched her arm; she looked at him and stopped speaking, then looked back at Draco and smiled reassuringly.

_They're being... nice! Alright. I can do it if they can._

"Come in," said Draco. "Would you mind if I quickly got dressed? I'd feel a bit more comfortable. I'll be as quick as I can."

"Of course," said Granger. "I'm sorry if we woke you up. Would you like us to make some coffee or something while you get ready?"

So Draco found himself upstairs, totally naked, while two of his former enemies made coffee for him in his kitchen. He did not, of course, _remain_ totally naked, but that was the point at which the surrealism of the whole situation (particularly the conversation they'd just had) hit him, and he was still smiling at this when he rejoined his visitors.

He found them playing with Spike, who was stretched out on the kitchen table having his belly rubbed by Granger while Weasley stroked his head. "Where did this cat come from, Malfoy?" asked Granger. 

"His name is Spike; he just wandered in one day, not long after I moved here, and he's never really left since," said Draco.

"Spike? Bit of a strange name for a cat, isn't it?" said Weasley. "What made you call him that?"

"Well, I was in Russia for a while..." began Draco.

"Novaya Zemlya," chorused Weasley and Granger. 

Draco's mouth dropped open. "How on earth did you know that?" he demanded.

"That's part of what we want to talk to you about," said Granger. "Do you mind if we come back to it in a minute? It's just that the cat's an important part of the story too, you see."

Draco took a moment to attempt to process this and decided he couldn't. Answering the original question was easier, though.

"While I was in Russia, I watched a lot of Muggle TV, and there was this programme with vampires. Spike is named after one of them," he explained. Granger nodded knowingly and then said to Weasley, as he opened his mouth, "I'll explain it to you later, Ron."

"Now, I'm intrigued about why you think Spike is important," said Draco.

Granger explained how Harry had found the house, and Draco found his mouth dropping open again. "Spike? Spike _led_ Harry here?"

Weasley and Granger looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Then they both looked back at Draco and grinned. 

"What?" asked Draco.

"Not that I have a problem with it, but I'm curious – when exactly did you start referring to Harry as _Harry_? And yes, from what he says, Spike definitely led him here. That's no ordinary cat," said Weasley.

Draco felt his face heat up. "Erm... Well. I've thought of him as 'Harry' in my head for ages. Ever since we left school, I suppose. You remember how the headlines gradually stopped referring to 'Harry Potter' and just used 'Harry', after they realised that there were no other famous Harrys."

"Do your friends still call him 'Potter'?" wondered Granger.

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Friends? What friends? You are literally the first people I've spoken to since I came back from Russia, and that was six months ago. No, all my school friends are either dead or left the country more or less when I did, and for the same reason. I don't think any of them will be back any time soon. And you probably know that both my parents died shortly after the war, of course."

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Weasley. Draco glanced at him in surprise. "What? I may not have liked them particularly, but that doesn't mean I'm happy they're dead. So why aren't you living at the Manor, then?"

"I couldn't face it after what happened there, and even if I could, all the house-elves had gone and I couldn't have managed everything on my own without them. So I sold it."

"This is all very interesting," said Granger, "and I do want to hear more about what you've done since we last saw you, but we've not yet got to the reason why we came today, so do you mind if we bring the conversation back to Harry? And also, I'm just wondering – have you ever tried the Animagus reversal spell on Spike?"

"Animagus? But he... No, I haven't. Do you want to?"

"I think I would feel reassured if we knew one way or the other. _Homorphus!_ " said Granger, flicking her wand at the cat. He stared at her balefully and curled himself tighter.

"Hmm. Just a cat, then. But obviously quite a special one." said Granger.

"Hermione, please can we worry about the cat mystery later?" demanded Weasley. " _Harry_ , remember?"

"Yes, Granger, I admit I'm curious about Spike's skills, but I'm more curious about what you have to say about Harry," said Draco.

Granger rolled her eyes. "Look, you call him Harry and he calls you Draco – isn't it about time the rest of us tried this first-name thing?"

"He calls me Draco?" But even as he asked the question, Draco remembered that he'd heard the evidence of this the previous day. He felt his face heat up again. "Fine. Hermione. Ron." They both smiled at him. "Tell me about Harry, please."

"This is actually all much easier than I expected," said Weas... Ron. "I thought we'd have to talk you into listening, but it looks as if he's not the only one who's obsessed." Draco's head shot up. "That's right. He's obsessed with you, and has been ever since you left the country."

"Well, if we're being truthful, Ron, Harry was obsessed with Draco when we were still at school, wasn't he? Remember what he was like that last year?"

"He did have good reason to be following me then, though," admitted Draco.

"Well, yeah, but I think we both knew at the time that there was more to it than that, even if we never discussed it," said Ron. "And after he told us he was gay, everything made a lot more sense."

Draco stared. _Harry's gay?!_ "I imagine that went down well with your sister," he said, once he'd recovered from his shock.

Ron laughed. "She was less surprised than anyone," he said. "She said she knew there was something not working when his kisses did nothing for her. She was relieved to find it wasn't because of anything she'd done wrong. Anyway, she's been with Neville for a long time now."

"You know that Harry testified for you at your trial," said Hermione, apparently determined to get the conversation back on track. "When you thanked him afterwards, he was really happy. He thought it meant you could start again and actually be friends. But when he went to visit you the next week, you'd already gone."

"He spent days trying to track you down," said Ron. "It was actually my dad that finally told him that you'd bought an international Portkey to Archangel, but Harry found out all the other details himself – I have no idea how, actually. But he talked about nothing else for weeks. He kept turning up and announcing stuff he'd discovered. Arkhangelsk Oblast. Novaya Zemlya. Mezhdusharskiy Island. Tsar Bomba. Nenets. Tadibya."

"Oh, good grief, yes," said Hermione, without batting an eyelid at Ron – Ron Weasley! – reeling off such a list and pronouncing all the Russian names like a native speaker. _Exactly how much did Harry talk about all this?_ "It was quite frustrating, actually. All those years I spent trying to get Harry to help with the research, and then it turned out that the way to get him into a library was to get Draco Malfoy to go and live on a remote island in the middle of what the Muggles thought was a nuclear test area. Which, by the way, still seems like a bit of a bizarre thing for you to do."

"Well, given how most people seemed to feel about me, it didn't seem likely that I'd be able to get a job here, so when I was offered the chance to be part of the research project, I jumped at it. It was actually Snape who'd recommended me, it turned out – he knew the guy who was running things there."

"No, Hermione," said Ron, before she could speak. "Please don't ask about the research right now. I have a feeling this won't be the only time we ever see Draco, don't you? You can talk to him about it next time." 

"Fine," she grinned. "At least I'm actually interested in the academic side of it, rather than, ooh, say, the fact that Novaya Zemlya looks like an erect cock." 

Ron spluttered at this, spitting out a mouthful of coffee. "It _does_ look like an erect cock, though," he pointed out, smirking.

Draco blinked several times, and then considered his mental map of the place he'd lived for almost five years. "Merlin. Now that I think about it, it really does, doesn't it? How on earth did I not notice that before?" He giggled.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them. " _Anyway_. The reason we came today... oh, good grief, grow up!" she pleaded, as Draco and Ron both giggled even more at the use of the word 'came'. They attempted to straighten their faces as she glared at them. "The reason we _visited_ you today is that Harry was planning to wait a couple of days before trying to talk to you again, so as to give you a chance to get over your shock, and we were a bit worried that you might have vanished again before he came back. And he's had such a difficult time over the past few years that we didn't want to risk losing the first thing that's made him happy in ages." She didn't break eye contact with Draco while saying this, and he found he needed to take a steadying breath. _I... made him happy? I didn't even speak to him!_

Ron had been watching Draco during Hermione's last statement. Now he nodded. "Yeah, it probably seems a bit weird, given that you've not seen him in five years, but I promise you – the thought of you made him happy while you were away, and he's never stopped thinking about you. So the fact that you're finally back after all this time has made him ecstatic, even though he may not show it. But I think he's also terrified at the thought that something might go wrong and he might lose you again. And I think it would break him if that happened. So, although he'd probably be furious if he knew we were here telling you all this, we just wanted to try and help things go right for him for once."

Draco had already blushed more times in the previous hour than in the whole of the rest of his life, he decided, but at Ron's words he felt his entire body become flushed with colour. He bowed his head to give him the chance to restore some of his dignity. When he looked up again, he found both Ron and Hermione gazing at him with... could that be _fondness_? He tentatively smiled back, at which Hermione hugged him, much to his surprise. He hugged her back, allowing his arms to tighten just enough to show that he was sincere.

"OK, then," he said, standing up. "Please will you take me to wherever Harry is?"

 

*******

 

An hour later, they were slipping and sliding along an ice-covered pavement in Cricklewood. Ron was grumbling. "How come you're the only one of us that hasn't fallen on his arse, Draco?" 

Draco grinned at him, glad to be distracted from his nervousness. "One, my innate grace and poise. Two, the fact that – if you recall – I spent almost _five years living on a glacier_. It helps." Ron glared at him, but seemed slightly mollified... until he fell over again a minute later. 

As Hermione helped him up, Draco said "Where exactly are we going? You said Harry would be at work, but I though he was an Auror."

"He was, for a while," said Hermione. "But he quit a couple of years ago, about the same time as he decided he'd had enough of the wizarding world. He lives here in Cricklewood now, and we're the only wizards he still sees."

Draco was taken aback by this. "That sounds very lonely," he mused. 

Ron boggled at him. "Says you, who hasn't spoken to anyone in six months! But now you see why you're so important. He's totally alone apart from us. Well, and a few Muggles, but of course he can't be open with them."

"But what happened to make him leave the wizarding world? Everyone loved him!" said Draco.

"Well, that was the problem, really," said Hermione. Draco could tell his confusion was showing on his face, but at that point Hermione stopped, and Ron grabbed her arm to keep her upright as her feet were about to slip again.

"Thanks," she said, smiling shamefacedly at him. "Anyway, we're here."

Draco gazed up at the sign. "The Cod Father? What sort of a place is this?"

Ron giggled, muttering "Plaice!" to himself, and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"It's a chippy, obviously," she said.

Draco looked at her blankly.

"A fish and chip shop. A take-away that sells fish and chips. And don't pretend you don't know what chips are, Draco Malfoy, because we even had them at Hogwarts occasionally."

"And Harry works in this... chippy? How come?"

"To start with, he was just a customer," said Ron. "He loves fish and chips, so when he moved here he was in this shop several times a week. And then, a few months ago, the lady who owns the place was saying that she wouldn't be able to open that weekend because all the staff were on holiday or ill, and Harry, being Harry, offered to help out. He doesn't work there regularly – he doesn't need the money – but he agreed to be their kind of reserve staff member. He only goes in when they're short of staff."

"He really seems to enjoy it, though," said Hermione. "I was quite surprised. Now, listen, I was just thinking. If we walk in with you, it'll really distract Harry, and he doesn't finish work for another half an hour, so he wouldn't be able to talk till then. So I've got an idea. How about if we Disillusion you, and you can follow us in to see how things work, and then you can go in on your own afterwards, and hopefully talk to him then?"

"Alright," said Draco, although he felt anything but. He shivered slightly at the familiar egg-breaking-on-the-head sensation of the Disillusionment charm, and then walked into the chippy behind his new friends.

 

*******

 

The chippy was quite busy; there were six people standing at the counter when they entered. Draco was confused: none of them seemed to be being served, yet none of them seemed impatient or angry. Several of them were talking to the middle-aged woman behind the counter, about something called 'The X Factor', whatever that was. The only other member of staff was Harry, who was at the other end of the counter; he was the only person there who appeared to be doing anything, although Draco couldn't quite see what he was actually doing. He couldn't take his eyes off him, though. He'd realised years earlier that Harry had grown up into a truly gorgeous man, and that was certainly still the case, but now he was aware of what Harry actually thought of him, it added a whole new dimension.

Harry looked up as the door opened, and his face lit up. "Ron! Hermione!" he said. "Do you want any fish?"

"Yes, one each, please," said Hermione, at which Harry nodded. Draco thought it seemed a little unprofessional of Harry to serve his friends when all those people were before them, but he kept his mouth shut. _Maybe I've missed something._ He watched as Harry reached into a container and took out two things that were very vaguely fish-shaped, but didn't otherwise look like any fish Draco had ever seen. They were covered in some sort of milky liquid, which dripped off them as Harry dropped them into what Draco could now see was a vat of sizzling hot oil in front of him. 

Having done this, Harry resumed his previous activity of stirring the contents of the oil vats – there were actually two, one of which was full of chips – while talking to Ron and Hermione. Draco couldn't hear what they were saying, but was fascinated to see that the woman at the till was still not doing any work, and none of the customers seemed upset at their wait. Then it dawned on him. _They're all waiting for the fish to be cooked!_

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later Harry gave the oil one last stir and then looked at his colleague. "Right, Liz," he said. "Fish is ready." He started to scoop the cooked pieces of battered fish out of the oil and put them in the compartment on top of the vat.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, then turned to the first customer in the queue. "Right, love, what was it? Fish and chips twice? D'you want salt and vinegar?"

"Salt and vinegar on one, just salt on the other," said the man, and Draco watched as Liz put two pieces of fish into two separate polystyrene containers, added what seemed like a ridiculous number of chips to each, shook salt and vinegar liberally over them as directed, and closed the containers. "Wrapped or for now?" she asked. "Wrapped, please," said the man, at which Liz wrapped both containers in newspaper, put them into a plastic carrier bag and handed it over. "That'll be eight pounds, please, love," she said.

A similar routine followed for all the other customers in the queue, which cleared remarkably quickly, until finally it was Ron and Hermione's turn. As they paid for their food, Harry, who'd been leaning on the counter watching proceedings since he'd finished frying fish, spoke up. "I'll probably come round tomorrow or the day after, if that's OK. As soon as I've decided what to do."

"Any time is fine, mate. You know you're always welcome. But I have a feeling things might happen a bit sooner," said Ron, grinning. Hermione stood on his foot. "Ow!"

Harry looked at them in confusion, and Draco forgot to breathe. _That has to be the most adorable thing I've ever seen._ He decided that it was the worrying of the lower lip that was the key to the adorableness, and found himself thinking, for the first time, about kissing that lip. As a result, he was startled to find himself being dragged out of the chippy by Hermione.

 

*******

 

Ten minutes later, Draco was alone outside the chippy. Ron and Hermione had gone home, but not without hugs (from both of them) and wishes of good luck. He had removed his Disillusionment charm, and all that remained was to summon the nerve to walk into the chippy and look Harry in the face. He'd decided that he'd wait until there were no other customers, if possible.

The door of the chippy opened and two teenage boys emerged. "See you, Liz! See you, Harry! Happy Christmas!" one of them called. "Happy Christmas!" called Liz and Harry in chorus. 

Draco waited for the boys to wander off out of sight, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

"D'you want any fish... Draco!" Harry stared at Draco in shock. And – _oh, yes!_ – confusion too. Draco saw him start worrying his lower lip and couldn't help smiling, at which Harry smiled too, and appeared to relax considerably.

"Just fish and chips for me, please," said Draco. Harry grinned and flung a piece of fish into the oil. Draco found himself matching his grin.

Liz looked from one to the other of them with a twinkle in her eye. "I can see that you two know each other," she said. "Tell you what, Harry, it's nearly closing time anyway. Why don't you put your fish in as well, then you can go home and eat with your friend?"

Harry looked at her, and his smile widened. "Thanks, Liz," he said. "I think I will."

 

*******

 

Harry felt as if he was dreaming as they left the chippy. He'd spent so much time imagining what it would be like to see Draco again that he couldn't quite believe he was really there. He was so busy thinking about this that he forgot about the ice, and would have had his first fall of the winter if it hadn't been for Draco grabbing his arm and steadying him.

"Thanks," Harry said, and was fascinated to see that when he looked up at Draco, Draco blushed. This confused Harry. _Why would he blush when I look at him?_ he wondered, biting his bottom lip as he pondered this.

He was intrigued to notice that Draco's blush deepened. Emboldened, he decided to risk not letting go of Draco's arm when they started to walk again. Draco glanced at him and smiled shyly, but did not resist. "Where are we going, then? Do you live nearby?" he asked. 

"It's just down the road," said Harry. "I have a Notice-Me-Not charm on it, but that's mainly just in case any wizards happen to be passing by. The Muggles don't bother me."

"Yes, Hermione mentioned that you had left the wizarding world behind," said Draco. "I'm dying to know why, but it's OK if you don't want to talk about it."

"I want to talk to you about _everything_ ," said Harry. "And I want to know everything about you. Obviously Ron and Hermione brought you here tonight – and don't think I won't be having words with them about approaching you without telling me, although since the result is exactly what I wanted, I can't really be too cross, can I? But I'm getting the impression that they told you what I feel for you – am I right?"

Draco blushed again, and Harry found himself staring in fascination at the various levels of pinkness on that pale, pale skin. He was unsure why he hadn't realised how beautiful Draco was when they were at school, but he certainly knew it now. He found that he wanted to gaze at him for hours. 

"Well, erm, yes, they sort of said something about that," said Draco. "I seem to recall that the word 'obsessed' was even used a few times. But my favourite bit was the part when they said that the thought of me makes you happy. I'm not sure I can quite believe that, but if it's even slightly true, then I think it's the best news I've ever heard."

Harry beamed at him, and then found that he couldn't seem to stop beaming. _Hmm, it'll make it a bit hard to eat my fish and chips if my mouth is stuck in this position,_ he thought. He laughed at this, then leaned over and kissed Draco's forehead. "Come on," he said. "Let's go and eat our fish and chips before they go cold, and then I rather like the idea of snuggling on the settee with you while we talk. How does that sound?"

Draco gave him a matching forehead kiss. "That sounds perfect, Harry," he said.

 

*******

 

Half an hour later, Harry decided that he was in heaven. He was on his settee in front of a cosy fireplace. Christmas songs were playing quietly on the radio. Draco was snuggled up beside him with his head on Harry's shoulder and Harry's arm holding him close. With his other hand, Harry was running his fingers through Draco's amazingly soft hair (something he'd been secretly dying to do since the age of eleven). The fish and chips had been eaten and the wrappings disposed of. Harry had considered having a shower to get rid of the perennial smell of grease and cooking oil, but he didn't want to leave Draco, and although he allowed himself to daydream for a moment about possible future shared showers, he didn't want to rush things. In any case, there was lots of snuggling he wanted to do first.

"So, was that the first time you've had fish and chips from a proper chippy?" Harry asked. 

"You know it was," said Draco. "No doubt my father will be turning in his grave. But it was very tasty, I have to admit. I'd expected it to be much greasier than it was, too. But I'm so full! Why do they do such huge portions?"

Harry laughed. "Not all chippies do," he said. "But the good ones tend to. You DO realise you didn't have to eat it all, though?"

"Well, I wasn't sure, so I copied you, and you did."

"Sorry. If it's any consolation, I'm totally full too. I should have stopped ages before I did. But I've always been in the habit of eating every scrap of food that's put in front of me. It was a survival tactic when I was little, because my aunt and uncle used to starve me. I should try to change my habits now, though, really."

"My father told me about how your relatives treated you, you know. I don't know how he knew, but he thought it was hilarious. Actually, I think that might have been the first time I started to realise that my father wasn't always right. I'd noticed that you always looked really skinny every September, but it didn't seem funny once I found out the reason." Draco ran his hand over Harry's belly, eliciting a shiver. "You're not skinny any more, though. In fact, I'd say your body is just about perfect. Your metabolism must be making up for lost time."

"I know you're just saying that, but thank you," said Harry, blushing. 

Draco looked up at him. "I'm _not_ just saying that, actually, but I have a feeling it will be a while before I can convince you of that, so let's change the subject. You were going to tell me about why you left the wizarding world."

Harry sighed. "I just got sick of it all. I always hated the attention, but I could see that it made people feel better to have a figurehead to pin their hopes on when Voldemort was around, so I didn't put up too much fuss. But I always thought the attention would stop after Voldemort was gone, and it didn't. It just got worse. There were still stories about me in the paper every day, even if I hadn't done anything. I tried just staying indoors as much as possible, but people kept writing to me, until I had to get all the owls diverted. And if I _did_ go out, it was a nightmare, so I had to stop doing that. It was slightly better at work, because I knew lots of the Aurors personally, so they were a bit more laid-back about me being around. But I found being an Auror really frustrating for different reasons. If it had just been about catching bad guys, that would have been fine. But there were all these rules and procedures and targets and risk assessments, and I hated all that. The last straw was when Kingsley told me that I'd have to stick to a desk-based role until the public had lost interest in me, because every time I went out on a raid it turned into a media circus. I quit the Aurors the next day, and although I hadn't planned to leave the wizarding world at the same time, it just seemed like the best solution when I thought about it."

"Do you think you'll ever go back? You must miss lots of people."

"Yeah. It's been really hard, but I think it was the right decision. I hadn't realised how stressed I was all the time until suddenly I wasn't. I feel much healthier these days. I just wish there was a way I could keep things as they are now, but still see all my friends. I'm hoping that one day the world will have lost interest in me, and I'll be able to go back."

Draco turned and reached both arms round Harry to give him a long, tight hug. They clung to each other for a few minutes, then Harry leaned sideways and stretched out along the settee, pulling Draco on top of him. "And what about you?" he asked. "I can understand why you were hiding, I think, but it breaks my heart to think of you not speaking to _anyone_. At least I had Ron and Hermione. Were you planning to stay like that forever?"

Draco nuzzled his head under Harry's chin. "I don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead. The research project ended, so staying on Novaya Zemlya wasn't an option. I did consider staying somewhere else in Russia, since I'd learned the language and everything, and it was a pleasant enough place – and, more importantly, no-one was giving me a hard time. But I really missed England, even though none of my friends were here."

"I was here," whispered Harry, and he felt Draco kiss his neck.

"I know, and I think subconsciously that's why I wanted to come back, even though I didn't have any reason to believe you might feel this way. But I wasn't thinking that at the time. I just knew I wanted to come back to England, but as soon as I arrived I remembered how people had treated me, and it seemed easier to just keep myself hidden."

"People gave you a hard time when you came back to England? After all that time?"

"No! That's the stupid part. I didn't even try to find out what sort of reception I'd get. I just assumed it would still be bad, and ran away. I'm such a coward."

"I don't think you're a coward, and I never have," said Harry. "You've survived, and you've done what you had to to do that. That's not cowardice." 

"Well, OK, but I'm a coward compared to _you_ , definitely. Mind you, everyone's a coward compared to you." 

"Don't be too sure," said Harry. "I don't think I could have done what you've done since you came back. How long ago was that?"

"About six months now," said Draco.

"And you haven't spoken to _anyone_ until yesterday? I could never have done that."

"I bet you could," said Draco. "It's not that hard. I've kept in touch by owl with all my colleagues from the research project, so I have had human contact. I get letters from one or other of them most days, and I write back. I've managed to earn some money by doing translations to and from Russian, too – I've always been quite good at languages, and I learned Russian more thoroughly than the others did, so they've sent lots of translation work my way. And I've done lots of reading, since I realised I could buy books by owl as well as food. It's been quite peaceful really. Especially with Spike."

"Spike! I'd forgotten about him," said Harry. "I watched you with him. I was a bit confused at the time – I couldn't work out why you didn't just shove him out of the way when he sprawled on top of you while you were reading. But I think I can understand it now."

"Yes, I think he's kept me sane," said Draco. "The thought that he kept _choosing_ to come and snuggle up against me was so reassuring that I never wanted to move him when he did, in case he didn't do it again. It's inconvenient at times, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I like the snuggling too much."

Harry tightened his arms around him. "I hope he doesn't feel too left out when I take over some of his snuggling duties," he said. "He led me to you, after all. I'd hate to think he was deprived as a result." 

"I will just have to make sure I make time to snuggle both of you," said Draco. "Maybe I will make that my full-time job."

"Sounds like a plan," said Harry. Then he smiled. "Listen to what's on the radio," he whispered.

Draco lifted his head to listen. _"He's gone two thousand miles ... it’s very far,"_ he heard. "Hmm, I think I've heard this before," he said. "Who sings it?"

"The Pretenders," said Harry. "But this is our song, in my head."

"Our song? Why?" 

"When I first found you'd gone to Novaya Zemlya, I wanted to know everything about it. And one of the first facts I looked up was how far it was from London. I found that the bit where you were was almost exactly two thousand miles away. And since I already knew it was covered in snow, I couldn't help thinking of this song."

Draco stood up. "Please will you dance with me, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him. "I'd love to, but... well, I'm a terrible dancer." He bit his lip.

Draco leaned down and planted the very softest of kisses on the lip Harry had bitten. "You're good enough for me, Harry. Please, dance with me."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled up from the settee, and found himself in Draco's arms. " _Our hearts were singing – it felt like Christmas time,_ " sang the radio. Harry wrapped his arms more tightly around Draco and finally gave into the temptation to kiss him properly.

 

*******

 

In an invisible house on the other side of London, Spike suddenly lifted his head to stare urgently in a random direction, in that way that cats do. Then he curled up again and went back to sleep, apparently satisfied.

￼  
THE END

 

_**2000 Miles (words and music by Chrissie Hynde)** _

_He's gone two thousand miles ... it’s very far  
The snow is falling down, gets colder day by day ... I miss you  
The children will sing – he'll be back at Christmas time_

_In these frozen and silent nights, sometimes in a dream you appear  
Outside under the purple sky, diamonds in the snow sparkle  
Our hearts were singing – it felt like Christmas time_

_Two thousand miles is very far through the snow  
I'll think of you wherever you go...._

_He's gone two thousand miles ... it’s very far  
The snow is falling down, gets colder day by day ... I miss you  
I can hear people singing – it must be Christmas time  
I hear people singing – it must be Christmas time_


End file.
